


struggle

by LightningInABottle



Series: BLUE LIPS [11]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Almost Sex, Angst, Angst and Romance, Arguing, Break Up Talk, Communication Failure, Confessions, Healthy Relationships, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kissing, Lack of Communication, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Song Lyrics, Songfic, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 07:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17762759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningInABottle/pseuds/LightningInABottle
Summary: The unresolved tension in Thomas and Alexander's relationship reaches a boiling point until Thomas can't take it anymore.He can't touch Alexander without wanting more, wanting love. But Alexander might not share his same feelings.Or if he does, he refuses to communicate them.Sometimes, the struggle is just too real to handle.





	struggle

**Author's Note:**

> For enhanced reading experience, listen to struggle by Tove Lo!  
> (And to better understand, read the previous works of the series)

Thomas knew that Alexander Hamilton was an ocean. However, he knew there was only a certain amount of time before he would get pulled into the riptide and drowned. But that didn’t stop him from staying, taking care of Alexander, hoping to make things better for the two of them. And it certainly didn’t stop him from pushing Alexander up against a wall every time they were alone and crashing their lips together.

From the very beginning of their relationship, Alexander had always been the one to challenge Thomas, with rebuttals and screaming matches in conference rooms. Even when their dynamic changed considerably, Alexander still remained a mess of contradictions. Deep, like the ocean. An entirely different life below the cresting waves. Possibly dangerous, as well as alluring.

Not breaking their intense kiss, Alexander wrapped his arms around Thomas and pressed up against him. A small jolt of panic overtook Thomas when he realized that Alexander might be able to taste the alcohol still on his tongue. Thomas had taken up drinking again, keeping his bottles of potion away from Alexander so as not to disturb his recovery. But the anxiety was quickly eased away when Alexander slipped his hands under Thomas’s shirt, whimpering impatiently.

Thomas had always believed in karma. He knew this would come back to hurt him, if it wasn’t already. Apparently, he still hadn’t learned that falling in love with someone like Alexander was a bad idea. He was so painfully vague it reminded Thomas of a murky sea bottom, impossible to discern danger from beauty. But that didn’t stop Thomas from disturbing the calm, setting the waves into motion with his hands as he lifted Alexander up and relocated them to the bedroom as fast as possible, trying not to look at the bed-frame under which there were flasks hidden.

Alexander’s hands were cold, so unbearably cold when they moved over Thomas, as if he had been holding ice only seconds before touching him. But the chill was good, helping to chase away the buzzing in Thomas’s brain and fuck some sense into him. He was so lonely, drifting away like a feather across the ocean. Although Thomas was aware he would probably pay later, he needed to regain some semblance of control. _Fuck, fuck some sense into me_ , he pleaded silently to Alexander, tugging him as close as possible on the bed.

“Dammit, I want you so bad,” Alexander murmured into the crook of Thomas’s neck. Before, the statement might have been arousing, but now it only filled Thomas with a strange sense of bitterness. If only Alexander communicated outside the bedroom as well as he did inside. The struggle was real, especially when Alexander never told Thomas how he felt about their relationship.

_—the struggle is real—when you don’t tell me how you feel ‘bout this love—_

Thomas tried to shake off the sense of growing unease but found that it only strengthened. The struggle was real and impossible to avoid. So instead of lying still and letting Alexander kiss him senseless, Thomas wriggled away as soon as he could, already missing Alexander’s insistent lips.

“What is it?” Alexander frowned, sitting back on the other side of the bed. Thomas ran a hand through his hair, tried his best to adjust his shirt. Now that he was apart from Alexander, it was much easier to think.

“I just don’t think we should be doing this right now.” After a sharp look from Alexander that reminded Thomas of their last fight, right before Thanksgiving, where they had almost this same conversation. “Not for you,” he corrected himself. “For me.” Maybe it was something in his voice that tipped it off, but realization dawned on Alexander’s face.

“You just think you’ve got all the answers,” he more-so stated than accused. Neither of them were truly upset, but Thomas’s strange mood had become infectious, darkening Alexander as well. Of course, the refusal wasn’t the reason tension of a negative kind had begun to hedge up between them. It was something else, something in the silence and things not said between the physical intimacy. Three pesky little words that Thomas knew Alexander would never say.

Thomas rose to his feet, pulled Alexander up as well. They walked out of the room quietly, leaving Thomas’s thoughts to fester. Alexander was always holding his reins, whether he wanted to or not. With that very first kiss in the parking lot, Alexander had pulled Thomas underwater. Although James had warned about this very thing happening, telling Thomas not to get too attached, Thomas had ignored him. _Nobody gets hurt,_ he had promised James a few weeks after he and Alexander hooked up.

How wrong he had been.

Now, with Alexander’s cold, cold hand in his own, Thomas found that he still longed for his touch. Longed to smooth the twisted glass prickling his chest every time he looked at Alexander and saw what he could never have completely. Thomas just wanted to fuck some sense into himself, exchange golden smiles for loneliness and pay the consequences later. But he knew he couldn’t do that right now, when his mind was so foggy and unstable and prone to resentment.

_—fuck, fuck some sense into me—_

The struggle was real when Alexander didn’t tell Thomas how he felt. About their hate, about their love, about _anything._ Thomas stepped away as soon as he and Alexander were in the makeshift study-living room. It was then when he spoke as casually as possible, not meeting Alexander’s eyes.

“Y’know, sometimes I really wish you would tell me stuff.”

Alexander cast a strange glance over at Thomas, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt.

“I tell you stuff all the time,” he said, and the painfully obvious way with which he dodged the question made Thomas even more impulsive.   
“No, you don’t. Not the stuff that matters.” As Thomas spoke, Alexander turned to face him completely, the same look he used to give Thomas at work right before diving headfirst into an argument appearing on his face. Thomas tried to backpedal, not wanting for Alexander’s walls to go up.  “It’s just a real struggle to—”

“No!” Alexander cut Thomas off with a sharp, sudden exclamation, only to drop his volume into a whisper. “You don’t _get it.”_ As soon as his ears processed what was being spoken, as soon as his eyes took in how Alexander looked, Thomas’s blood ran ice cold. Whatever was said had certainly struck a nerve, flipping the atmosphere immediately.

They had argued before, of course, but this was nothing compared to what was happening now. Thomas had always seen Alexander’s emotions to be like a fiery sandstorm, blistering through anything that stood in his way. But this, this hoarse voice that seemed to keep growing louder, the angry tears, the unadulterated agony in his expression? This was Alexander Hamilton as a hurricane.

 _“Look,”_ Alexander hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as he shook his head viciously from side to side. When he finally looked back up at Thomas, tears built up and fell over burning cheeks. In all the time Thomas had known him, he had never seen Alexander look so absolutely wrecked. _“I’ve got my way with words. Don’t believe me?”_ Thomas could hardly open his mouth to form words. His tongue had dried up, a lightheaded chill sweeping over him. _“I pretend like I don’t hurt.”_ The admission would have been chilling if not for the sweltering heat of the room.

_—I don’t—I don’t—I don’t—_

The words rattled around in Thomas’s brain like marbles. Alexander had been lying this entire time. Nothing was better, not even Thomas’s best efforts could help. Everything was crumbling down around them, and now the price for their lies and denial was catching up in a ruinous apocalypse. Thomas was still paralyzed, watching Alexander fall apart while spilling his guts, a broken dam of honesty through wrecked sobs leaving his lips. His voice had risen to a shout.

 _“I’ve got my way with pain. Don’t believe me?”_ Something strange, cruel, twisted at Alexander’s face, distorting his expression even further. Thomas wanted to speak, to comfort Alexander, to say anything about how he did believe him. But it was all too late now. They had fucked and argued and lied to themselves in order to make their dysfunctional relationship work out, but they still ended up here. Thomas had wanted to heal Alexander, to make him a romantic. It was only now, with each of Alexander’s confessions hitting him like bullets that Thomas realized he might have been destroying Alexander even more.

 _“I numb myself to blame.”_ In the eye of the hurricane, Alexander became quiet, eerily still. His final admission was hardly more than a whisper, the look in his eyes revealing something fractured, cold and shattered. This was it. Why Alexander had approached Thomas, why he had taken the pills, smoked that joint, downed the glass of beer. Thomas was just another drug, another hit to help numb Alexander, help him forget. Now he didn’t know who to feel sorrier for: Alexander, for the tragedy he was running from, or himself, for deluding himself into believing that they could ever work out, that Alexander ever actually cared.

_—I don’t—I don’t—I don’t—_

Thomas stepped forward, pain flaring in his heart when he saw Alexander go boneless, slumping back against the couch once all of the energy drained out of him. He looked completely defeated, as if whatever demons he had been running from finally caught up to him. Hoping to at least be a source of comfort, Thomas reached out to touch Alexander but felt more dread stab through his stomach when Alexander jerked away, shaking his head.

 _“Don’t,”_ was all he muttered. _“Don’t believe me.”_

Thomas immediately backed away, standing far enough from Alexander so that he couldn’t feel any worse than he already did. Along with all the stone-cold realizations Thomas had been having, another thought drifted up to his mind, strangely peaceful for all the weight it seemed to carry. Like dandelion fluff.

_—cold—cold—cold—cold hands over me—_

Thomas knew he could wrap his arms around Alexander, let the physical do the paving over of problems. Or he could offer Alexander a hit, mess up all the progress in exchange for forgiveness of something he didn’t know that he did. But Thomas was done pretending, done numbing away the issues. Alexander wasn’t a fragile piece of china, he didn’t need Thomas to tiptoe around him. Actually, he probably didn't know what he needed. But Thomas knew that despite everything, he and Alexander were still in a relationship, even one in its last stages.

And partners didn’t hide shit from each other, didn’t hurt each other, didn’t go on faking intimacy without ever truly connecting.

_—fuck—fuck some sense into me—_

Maybe that was what finally gave Thomas the strength to speak. The struggles were real and he was done ignoring them, done dealing with all the times when Alexander didn’t tell him how he felt about their love. Or if there even was a love. Had there ever been anything or was it all highs and sex and Thomas’s hopeful delusions? He had to know for sure if they could ever be romantics, if Alexander was ready to open up.

“Okay, maybe I don’t know everything, but I know the struggle is real. For you, for me, for us. And when you don’t tell me how you feel about this love, or any love in the past, I begin to doubt.” Thomas’s words were rushing out of him, pure truth rolling off of his tongue like water. Alexander had gone still to stare, dumbfounded, at him, like he couldn’t believe either of them were being honest.

_—the struggle is real—when you don’t tell me how you feel—_

“When you don’t tell me anything, the struggle is real. And I’m done glossing over everything, Alexander. You don’t tell me how you feel 'bout this love, so maybe I’ll have to.” Thomas took a deep breath, meeting Alexander’s eyes, which were filled with so many complicated, swirling emotions that they would be impossible to decipher. It was time to tell. He could only hope that Alexander would listen.

“I love you, Alexander Hamilton. But I have no choice anymore, so I’m offering you an ultimatum. Staying in the dark, or me. Either you get your shit together and tell me why you decided to hook up with me in that club more than half a year ago, or leave.”

For a second, Thomas had no idea what Alexander would choose. It was a coin balanced perfectly on its edge, a cup hanging on the precipice of a counter, a knife resting on a table by the tip. Too perfectly still to ever stay that way. But the silence after Thomas’s confession was deafening, roaring in his ears until Alexander blocked out all of his senses. This was it, the time they would finally leave. They could never have been romantics, despite everything. They were only ever meant to be strangers in the dark. But then:

_—the struggle is—_

Alexander closed his eyes, placed a hand over his heart almost like he was saying a pledge, and nodded.

**Author's Note:**

> And there we have it: part 11, aka everything once again goes to shit because they're both stupid.  
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it.  
> swanofthelake, I love you so much and appreciate all of your support more than I can express <3  
> If you want more, follow me on Instagram @lightningin.abottle  
> Leave a comment telling me what you thought! It inspired my writing so much!


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